Smile Of A Clown
by miarae
Summary: [ONEPARTER] Hermione is down. Confused. Depressed. The only one she trusts is her diary.


**Title:** Smile Of A Clown

**Summary:** Hermione is down. Confused. Depressed. The only one she trusts is her diary.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in the Harry Potter universe. I only own the poem, seeing as that I've written it.

* * *

_Such a loss,  
To be so down.  
The smile I am wearing,  
One of a clown.  
A pretend girl,  
Looking so real  
If only you could see  
The true way I feel.  
_

Nobody knows. Nobody sees. They all think I'm happy. Happy Hermione. They think I love doing homework when really it's something I flee into. It's something I'm good at which gives me the self-esteem I crave. The self-esteem I want others to give me. I know I'm not pretty but I'm not hideous to look at am I? My hair isn't that smooth, my breasts aren't that big, and I'm not that slender. My skin isn't brown enough and my eyes don't seem to sparkle like other girls eyes do. My smile is the only thing I remotely like about myself, but it has turned out to be a fake one. My friends all think that my smile is genuine, but I'm fooling them as well as myself.

I used to be this person which I hated, and now crave to be. I wasn't happy with the way I looked but I was happy being just that bossy know-it-all as some people called me. I wasn't very self-confident, but I wasn't very insecure either. I basically didn't care what other people thought of me as long as my grades were excellent and my friends were nice.

But now everything has changed. Ron and Harry have recently started to develop interest in girls. And needless to say, I am not one of the girls they look at. The girls they lust after are usually wellcurved, with long tanned legs and a big cleavage.

I have started to notice boys too. One boy in particular. But he's like my friends, though he would hate it if I compared him to them. But he is. He notices girls like that too. Sleeps with them even. Which hurts. But I understand. I'm not his type. I'm not pretty enough, skinny enough.

Or at least I wasn't. I'm becoming though. At first I barely ate, but my friends noticed. They were worried and practically forced me to eat. So now I eat. I eat and eat and eat until my friends are no longer suspicious and then I go to the Prefect Bathroom and throw everything up. Until I'm empty. Pure.

_Tears I cry  
Unseen to the world.  
I look so happy,  
But I feel so cold.  
Numb from the inside  
The outside so fake  
Sometimes this world  
Is a hard one to take.  
_

I hide behind my books. I hide behind my fake smile. I hide behind my clothes, which are oversized so nobody will know that my ribs are poking out. I hide my hollow face behind layers of make-up.

I wonder whether anybody will be able to look through this wall of illusion I've put up around myself. I wonder whether I want anybody to. Sometimes I do. Sometimes inwardly I'm screaming:

"Don't you see me! Don't you see how much it hurts! How broken I am? Notice me! Damnit just notice me!"

But I never do. I just smile and not and pretend that I don't exist. Lately it's easy. Not eating has caused more than just weightloss. I feel like I'm floating. I'm dizzy and focusing is getting more and more difficult with every meal that flushes through the toilet. And it feels good. I finally know why nobody notices me. I don't exist anymore. I'm air.

_Seeing the laughter  
While feeling the pain.  
Wanting to scream  
Trying hard to refrain.  
Never showing the me that's in me  
Someone I wish I sometimes could be  
_

Sometimes I wish I could show him. How I am. How I can be. I can love him...I know I could be better for him than anybody else could. I could be his, forever. I'd take care of him and keep him happy.

But then I hear him taunting me, calling me mudblood and I know he will never see me like that. Whatever I do, no matter how much weight I lose and how much cleavage I show, I will never be like them. I will never be good enough.

Because how could I be? I'm nobody. I'm not brilliant, not pretty, not exceptionally witty or cute. I'm average. Average in everything. And average is never good enough. Will never be good enough. And even now, when I've lost so much weight that I feel like I could dissolve any moment, now that I've changed so much and yet seemed to have remained the same I still am alone. My friends haven't noticed this struggle I have been going through. And it is safe. Because now I don't have to talk. Don't have to explain.

I've kept everything inside for so long that I can't let it out anymore.

_I wish I sometimes could show  
The girl that's so down  
But my smile always turns out  
To be the smile of a clown._

**Review please!**


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